


It's Always You

by IFrozeYourCookie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Parent!lock, Shamelessly Graphic soon, Smut, So relax, TJLC | The Johnlock Conspiracy, Top!lock, Well from the first few tags you know how it will be, bottom!John, mentions of drug use, not in the first chapter though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-19
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:36:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16661985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IFrozeYourCookie/pseuds/IFrozeYourCookie
Summary: Takes place when John went to visit Sherlock after a month of silence following his marriage to Mary, in which he discovered about Sherlock's (fake) relationship with a woman, specifically Janine. Explanations turned to arguments, and soon turns to confessions.





	1. Invalid Pairs

**Author's Note:**

> Hello peeps! It's been a while since I had written some fic and I had written half of this prompt when I was in a middle of my exam week. So, some of the text might sound rusty because of my mental health from the fucking exam is affecting my writing skills a bit. But I'm trying my best to balance writing these fics and drawing and a me time :)  
> Kudos and comments are well welcomed <3

Sherlock led Janine to the door after the whole charades that happened right before about finding him in a drug den (obviously not clean). One month. One bloody month and that was how they were reunited; being exposed to ALL of their _friends_ about his drug activity and about his relationship with Janine to John. Not that it was necessarily real nor serious, anyway, but it was necessarily relevant to gain better access to information in this recent case in his hands.  
   “Bye Janine. See you after work,” he smiled then went in for a soft yet kind of wet kiss.  
   “Solve me a case, Sherlock Holmes,” Janine smiled back and turn to her back before exiting the door, the same moment his pretentious smile exited his face. The door closes with a soft click and Sherlock turns to John to continue with his tirade about the whole politic-driven case.  
   “As I was saying, John, this case is extremely risky. I could very well cross this from my to-do list but Mycroft insisted so much I help him,” he ended with a huff of his breath, obviously amused by his brother’s reliance on him.  
   “Wait a second… You… You have a girlfriend?” John finally spoke with genuine curiosity in his voice, and hints of surprise in it too.  
   “Well, yes of course. I thought that was fairly obvious?”  
   “Uhm… Yes. But I thought you were ‘the man without emotions’,” his remark made Sherlock stopped in his tracks to give a good glare at John.  
   “Really, John. You of all people should know I am anything but. It’s a facade for work, so to speak. Do keep up, John,” the comment was followed by a classic eye roll to hide the fact that he was slightly hurt by the impression.  
   “Oh, I see. Then you really like Janine,” John said while his expression grew serious with every word. _Why does he mind so much? He was the one who left me to rot after he married that Morstan woman. Not even one text and he’s blaming me for not talking to him? Hypocrite._  
   “I have my reasons. One of it being that you’re too busy to be of company anymore,”  
   “Why do you say that? Whenever you needed me, I helped you,” then there were a pause. Like a moment of realization.  
   “Is it because… I married Mary?”  
   “What do you think? It’s not even just once you cancel out on me. _Oh Sorry Sherlock, we’re meeting Mary’s friends today. We have appointments for the house today_. Et cetera,” Sherlock sneered in annoyance. It was just some simple declination of offers but it had hurt Sherlock so much because John had chosen simple, normal activities over the cases that had gave them thrills and something to occupy their time with all those years. Of course it would hurt, because Sherlock doesn’t know how to entertain himself otherwise.

   “It’s my married life, now, Sherlock! I don’t need any of these to the point that it will somehow drag Mary along to our cases! Plus, you don’t need me anyway. I’m just watching you work from the side,” he sighed after the last word, tired. If the hurt Sherlock felt was showing on his face, John didn’t comment on it or he just didn’t bother seeing it.  
   “You know you do so much more. You’re my second opinion－an important remark,” he was getting stressed by the strain John was putting on their friendship. He took a pause before continuing his response just in hope to make John stop hurting him emotionally.  
   “Plus, I never said anything about involving Mary in our cases in any way. But by the way you put it, it seemed like you don’t want to be involved with me anymore,” he sighed. He was tired of the pretentious vibe he got from this friendship. Was it still friendship, though? Acquaintance seemed like a more appropriate term.

John just doesn’t seem to consider his supposedly nonexistent feelings and kept talking… and making him feel more guilty with every breath. John just doesn’t understand that he’s not the only one emotionally (or even physically) tired. He just… screamed with so much hatred, it would’ve sent so much vibrations in Sherlock’s heart it might shatter.  
   “LIES! Everything you do is lie, Sherlock! Don’t involve Mary into this. I bet if you solved a case without me, you’d finish faster because you wouldn’t have to explain everything to me all the time. I’m just there as someone to listen to you and make you feel good aren’t I?” There. If you listened closely, you could’ve heard the sound of whatever remained of Sherlock’s heart shatter. The only plausible reaction he could make was to break eye contact before John could read the hurt from his eyes and let him know about it as subtly as he could.  
   “Then why are you still here, John? If you insist so much at cutting ties with me, then why are you here? I honestly don’t need any more abuse from anyone at this point,” his words may or may not soften John a bit. It could just be an act of pity, but he lowered his voice from the shouting pitch and lightly touched his knees, clarifying what he believed was wrong.  
   “Hey… I never said I wanted to cut ties with you. I just wanted to explain to you that this is how my life is now, and when I can’t spend time with you doesn’t mean that I don’t want to,” he gave a doubtful, reassuring smile at Sherlock.

It was intentional, but Sherlock flinched a little at the soft touch, that was supposed to be calming, and that had him on edge. In a rather failed attempt to hide the reflex, he stood up a bit too hastily and tried to divert the conversation elsewhere and distract John from what happened.  
   “Uh… Right. Okay,” _distract him, Sherlock. Distraction! You’re being too obvious. The case! Talk about the case! That should do._  
   “As I was saying, John, the case. I’ve been assigned to investigate a possible terrorist attack and these pictures are all my rats. My markers. If one moves, I’ll know. If she buys another grocery, I’ll know. If he walks his dog, I’ll-”  
   “Sherlock? What’s wrong? You seem… frantic,”  
   “Uhm… nothing of importance,”  
   “You could tell me, please. I’m your… friend,” he uttered the last word in a lower tone, as if he wasn’t sure if that term was still valid between them. But Sherlock had decided that distractions was his go-to solution out of the conversation.  
   “Tea, John? I think Hudders just restock you favourite yesterday, or would you like some calming chamomile tea?”  
   “Any tea would be great, if you’ll tell me what happened to you while we’re at it,”  
   “Nothing happened to me, John. I seem to be indestructable,” Sherlock uttered while he boiled the water while letting the rest of the sentence mumbled from his lips,  
   “But damn well a damaged good, you are” he grunted a tone higher than his mumbles, but apparently loud enough for John to register that he had indeed said something under his breath.  
   “Wh- Sherlock what did you say? I’ve known you long enough to know something happened, so prepare the damn tea, sit down and tell me what’s wrong,”  
   “Hmm? It’s rather inappropriate to be discussed in front of food items. Are you sure you want to know? It’s not… important,”  
   “Yes, Sherlock. At least for me, it very much is important,” Sherlock finished the tea and handed one steaming cup to John, aware that John was watching him closely every second since the twitch.  
   “I…I don’t know if you really want to hear about it because the two years of my pretentious death is as sensitive to you as it is to me to be discussed . But if you insist, I will give out what needs must,” John just looked at him with a gaze that clearly reflected the need to know. An intense need and concern for him. With a deep breath, Sherlock tried to explain as much yet as little as possible to him.  
   “Dismantling Moriarty’s network took me longer than anticipated and I was not who I was, John. Every human contact I had was interrelated to interrogations or simply to… kill. My fight senses were high and the last few months had me only with my flight senses. I was… scared. John that’s not even generic of me but I was terrified. I was broken in so many ways and yet when I came back to you-” _you weren’t there to put me back together._ He couldn’t finish the sentence. All he could do was stop it abruptly just to protect his little heart from whatever reaction he many get if he did continue. Just to hide his hesitation, he stared into his tea, avoiding eye contact.

The silence that follows was agonizing, because Sherlock just couldn’t deduce anything, even what John felt after hearing the synopsis of his torture. After a few moments, John’s face contorted into a somewhat confused expression.  
   “My God, Sherlock that’s…that’s horrible. But couldn’t you…” the questions were starting and he doesn’t like it one bit. Sherlock looked at John, signaling him to finish his question.  
   “In those two years, couldn’t you shown me a sign that you were alive? A call, a text, heck even a note? You could’ve asked me for my help…”  
   “It would have been too risky. I wouldn’t have risked your life, John. It would have been better if you believed that I died to make it more believable to the public view and to Moriarty’s snipers, and if… I had actually… died in those two years,” He had said it as soft as he could. But from the look of John’s eyes widening in horror indicated that maybe any attempt to lower his volume in an empty, silent room wouldn’t be any help anyway.  
   “She-Sherlock, are you really saying that? You expected to die? You wanted to stop seeing me? Sherlock, let me tell you that I would risk my life to prevent that from happening,”  
   “It’s not that I didn’t want to see you anymore, John, but upon my return it seemed that Mycroft was right as always. I was rather unwelcomed. You had… Mary,” Sherlock gave a pinched smile when he managed her name out of his mouth.  
   “It was already so painful, John. I don’t see why-” He sighed, hoping to end this conversation soon.

   “That night… That night I was very angry with you, of course, because you had me thinking for two years that my best… friend, was dead and it turns out later that you are alive and of all the days you could have made your appearance, you chose the most special night of my life,” he presses his forehead in frustration.  
   “And you don’t have the right to talk about pain. Painful? Painful is crying at night like I did, thinking that the most special person you had would no longer be with you. That, Sherlock, is pain,”

Sherlock just stood there in awe, feeling his heart shatter knowing that these two years just as painful for John as it is for him. He wanted to be selfish, saying that John doesn’t understand what he went through but he wouldn’t want to add salt to the wound. But he was all in all, stubborn, anyway. It was something he couldn’t simply resist because it was built into his character. A stupid feature that comes with this genius machine.  
   “I… How would I have recognized my value in someone else’s life? It’s so very foreign to me, to have people not using you for benefit all the time,” Sherlock was properly shaking, and holding back tears and moisture. His visions are blurry but God forbid his voice to be as blurry and shaky.  
   “Sherlock, believe me that you were someone important to me and you still are. You changed my life completely, from the moment I step foot in London after the horrors of Afghanistan. You were there for me, for the worse or for the better,” signs of sympathy. He hated it, because you wouldn’t know if it were sincere or not.  
   “Where were you during my pain and pleasure? You deem me as the machine, how would you know when to come in, right? Just like my two years of continuous captive-release, it wasn’t just some playful hide-and-seek, John! It was, frankly speaking ; TORTURE! And coming back to such a bloody welcoming from the only person you were eager to meet after two years, how would you deduce I felt? Huh, Mycroft was right, maybe I SHOULDN’T care to come back!”

John was unsurprisingly shocked by the fact Sherlock would even raise his voice at him. It was, in a way, how Sherlock wanted him to be. Shocked and horrified.  
   “I-I’m sorry for being such a selfish prick. I didn’t know that part of your story, nor even cared to acknowledge it,” he let his sight drop to the floor in shame. _‘Best friend’ my arse._  
   “You said that… you shouldn’t have come back. Why?”  
   “Well, it seemed that you were happy with Mary and I was just ruining things, as usual. Classic Sherlock, huh,” he scoffed at this, as if making fun of himself. This, of course wasn’t the remark John was expecting from Sherlock. He didn’t know what would go through that genius brain of Sherlock, but he certainly didn’t expect death. In shock, he grabbed Sherlock by his arms and looked into his eyes, trying to make him believe whatever it was he was about say.  
   “Shut up, Sherlock! Do not ever say stupid things again, because that’s my role. You never ruined anything. From the bottom of my heart, I was genuinely happy you came back, although that night I didn’t really show that,” Sherlock could only look bewildered at first before giving John a tight smile. Why would Sherlock believe him if all he ever did was hurt him back?  
   “Are you? Are you really happy that I came back? Then why- why did you marry her, still?”  
   “I told you before, and I will tell you a thousand times more. Yes, I am happy you are here and that you are special to me,” he let go of Sherlock’s arm and look away in resignation.  
   “I married Mary, because she helped me through the grieving period. Se kept me grounded and prevented me from doing uninmaginable things,”  
   “There is nothing not crazy that we do on a day to day basis anyway?” Sherlock countered his reasoning.  
   “Sherlock! It got to the point I didn’t want to eat or leave my house, I might as well die along with you!” He shouldn’t have shouted but he was getting frustrated at this conversation. Sherlock just stepped back. In guilt? In shock? Seemed like an accumulation of every single emotion logical in this situation.

   “Why?”  
   “Why what?”  
   “Why is it such a big deal for you? Friends move on rather quickly, but you-” Shit. He can’t be caught off guard. Sherlock shouldn’t know the truth. It could hurt him more and he’s hurt enough by everything.  
   “I… I prefer not to talk about it,” of course. Sherlock Holmes is the guy who hates not knowing things. He took John’s wrist in his grip and kept his gaze fixed on John, trying to see any signs of deceit from what he would say.  
   “John. You got what you want from me- a story. Now I want to hear yours. Tell me. Please,” John was starting to get very nervous. Of course he would be. How else would he feel when a flatmate of two or so years who died for two years was urging him to tell the forbidden truth he told himself all these years. The truth he took big measures to hide, even if its by the means of marrying the woman namely Mary Morstan.  
   “I’m really not sure if I can tell you but, if you’re so insistent…”  
   “John. When you said that I am someone important, someone _special_ , what do you mean?” Now Sherlock’s voice is more firm, very, very pushing him for the truth. For an explanation for that brilliant mind. That, had made John more nervous. He was discombobulated from this level of insisting because it’ll come to a point where he had no other choice but to let the cat out of the bag.

   “Sherlock. If you want me to tell you the truth then you must promise that you will not stop talking to me, or something in the similar manner,” Sherlock scoffed at this ridiculous statement.  
   “Why would I? Go on, then,” he clarified. John could only look at Sherlock apologetically, because if this confession goes to shit, so will their friendship. Maybe this was people meant by the pain of crushing on someone; it could literally crush you. ‘Well, it’s now or never, I suppose’ he thought.  
   “I think I’m… in love…?”

Sherlock had made many possibilities all planned out in perfect plots in his head about what John was about to tell him, but he hadn’t anticipated this particular tension in the air, and a confession hanging in between them.  
   “In love… with… who?”  
   “You,” John answered simulatineously with Sherlock’s question of ‘who’, which left him wide-eyed, still disbelieving what was happening in front of his two eyes. John had looked away almost immediately after indicating the receiving end of the confession was indeed Sherlock himself, as if in shame. It shouldn’t be. He put his hands on the sides of John’s face and force him to make eye contact. In the midst of John’s confusion, he managed to deduce the honesty in him.  
   “You’re… telling the truth,”  
   “Am I really _that_ obvious?” he chuckled softly, almost sadly.  
   “Very, John. Quite so,”  
   “Can we just… forget this?” he pryed Sherlock’s hands away from his face.  
   “What, why? Even if I could forget it, I wouldn’t want to,”  
   “Because, I should have deduced that our feelings aren’t mutual,” Sherlock frowned for a split second before giving him the softest smile he had ever had the privilege to see.  
   “And even now, your deductions are still mostly wrong,” John wanted to argue, to have a say in this but was cut off by the gentle press of Sherlock’s lips against his. It felt as if years of surpressed feelings was lifted in just a mere contact of the lips, the density of the air lessening greatly when he felt John kissed him back after the few seconds of freezing in place. A while passed and he broke the kiss in search of air but kept their foreheads pressed so that the scent of the other lingers close.

   “Why would someone risk his life multiple times for someone if… If it weren’t for… love?” he smiled shyly and looks at his feet, avoiding eye contact for the time being. He continued when John wasn’t giving his piece of thought.  
   “Probably a bit too cliched. Although this isn’t much of my expertise, but yet I know quite well that JohnWatson, I am truly in love with you,” John stayed static.  
   “This isn’t a prank, is it? Or one of your cases?”  
   “You’re well aware I’m off cases for now due to my drug use. Lestrade refuse to let me in on crime scenes nor near any of his precious case files for the time being,” he sighed. Why must it be so hard to believe that a calculating machine could care and even love someone so much? As much as he love John? He was lost in thought and was frowning the whole process, and this had made John smiled. To see his Sherlock thinking so hard about this thing, and so he approached Sherlock slowly and carefully kisses him. He felt Sherlock put his hand behind his neck to deepen the kiss before parting their lips for a moment.  
   “Sherlock-”  
   “I’ve always thought this scenario would only remain in my wildest dreams,”  
   “So have I. And I hope no one would barge in at this hour, in this reality,” Sherlock smirked at this before pushing John to the sofa and lost himself in a passionate kiss and John caressed his cheekbones before their tongue explored each other’s mouth, battling for dominance.

They shifted on and on trying to get in the most comfortable position to deepen the kiss and once it grew heated, their hands frantically search for the opening of their shirts, working on the buttons. But once Sherlock pushed John’s jacket off him, he suddenly froze in place, rethinking this moment.  
   “John? This… uh… this isn’t right,” he admitted before locking his eyes on John’s dilated pupils. Almost abruptly, John stopped and a guilty expression clouded his face.  
   “O-oh. I’m sorry Sher-” Sherlock shook his head and pointed to the wedding ring on John’s finger.  
   “No it’s not that I don’t want to, but…”  
   “Mary… Yes, of course,” he sighed in frustration.  
   “I don’t want to ruin more than I already did. You’re married, John. You need to figure that part out,”  
   “I should talk to her directly. Having her finding out her own husband is having an affair from someone else would hurt more than knowing from my own mouth,”  
   “If you’re sure about this, about _us_ … Then maybe you should. I’m behind you in all this,” John firmly nodded at this, reassuring Sherlock of his commitment for this newfound relationship. In just a few minutes, concerns were shared about the possible consenquences to this. What if Mary burst out in anger at him. Worse, what if she cut off any contact between him and Rosie? That would be the death of him. But Sherlock, clever, clever Sherlock, knows how to ease John just right.  
   “She’s a smart woman, John. Even I wouldn’t deny that, just as much as I wouldn’t deny that she must have seen your attraction towards me since you both met. She must understand the situation. We’ll make things work,” Midway in the sentence, he put one hand on John’s cheek and smiles reassuringly. John put his own palm on top of Sherlock’s large, dainty hand.  
   “I just hope so. I don’t want to risk losing you nor Rosie,”  
   “You won’t lose me. Never again,” he gave a quick peck on his lips, sealing the promise at the tip on his lips, between John and Sherlock. If there’s one thing he hadn’t expected to occur in his life, was to find someone who was willing to put maximum effort to be with him but not neglecting everyone else. But he had found a brave soldier, with nerves of steel and heart of gold that was going through a war zone of obstacles to end up with him. He was right in front of him, and he is _his_ lovely John Watson.


	2. For A Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just for a day, that's all Sherlock asks for. If the discussion with Mary turns catastrophic, then at least let him have one day to call John Watson as his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so... smut. Obviously. This is the first time I actually written smut in detail and in a story (usually I censor as much as I can and cut it short to save my ass the pain) but here we go then.  
> Some fluff at the end to tone down the heated tension I faced when writing so enjoy :)

 

Promises aside, Sherlock tugged on John's finger, taking off his ring which strongly tied John to Mary.

   "Can... can we pretend just for one day, that you're mine?"

   "Are you sure about this, Sherlock?" John asked, for consent, and for confirmation while his hands rest on top of Sherlock's shirt. This could as well be too quick, but at the same time they had waited for too long to had missed this opportunity early on. Sherlock had placed his hand on John's neck and caressed it slowly.

   "If it's you, I'm very much sure," and just with that he closed the gaps between their lips and begin to slowly kiss John, as if asking the same question back to him, which John gladfully and eagerly responded by taking off Sherlock's shirt and touch every inch of this marble skin displayed before him. Once the kiss grew heated and desperate for more contact, Sherlock forcefully breaks the kiss and looks at John in the eyes with lust and need to have  _him_.

   "You're wearing too many clothes," he said as he pulled on the elastics of John's clothes. John was as eager to rid off his clothes as much as Sherlock was because the strain of his half-hard girth was uncomfortable being under layers of cotton. With a smirk at the remark, he swiftly pulled his jumper off and John took his opportunity to pull of Sherlock's pants as well, excited to savor the look of Sherlock's nudity and the sultry look he had. Though John was still in his pants, Sherlock smirked and licked his lips at what he sees. The sturdy frame of a soldier with the web-like scar on his left shoulder was perfect, ornamented by the defined muscles down to his navel.

   "Well, doctor. Who's going to be examined today? Me? Or... you?" at this point Sherlock was already letting his hand wander lightly down his torso, resting his hand on top of John's obvious erection which had earned him a silent whine from John. He licks the sensitive spot under John's earlobe and elected a moan and grins when he felt John hardening under his gentle touch. In a rather quick motion, John had pulled him to the sofa and Sherlock was now horizontally above him.

   "I think something hurts, where you're touching me,  _doctor_ ," he whispered in a raspy, captain voice at Sherlock's ear, which resonated down south to his own length. Grunting, he put a trail of wet and dominating kisses down John's neck and licks his throat when his Adam's apple was vibrating from the moans he was holding back all the while he teasingly palms John's erection.

   "Then we need to solve your problem then. Because someone seems very excited already to be examined thoroughly," he purposely end the sentence with his deep baritone that could have made John come on the spot. As obvious as this turn on was, Sherlock would want him to take it slow and be properly pleasured. As John runs his hand up and down Sherlock's back, the fly of his pants was opened and in mere seconds he was bare. Sherlock catalogued what he could in his mind of the rest of John's figure before aiming for John's nipple and latching himself there, sucking and flicking his tongue on it respectively and simultaneously rubbing John's dick. It seemed like the simple touch had John lost for words, actually lost for any voice to be sounded. Of course, this actually worries Sherlock a bit because if he was off to a good start perhaps John should have been more... noisy? Or at least some remarks or intelligible noises. He stops his hand movements and diverted his sight towards John through his raven eyelashes.

   "You alright with this? Just that you are unusually quiet. I mean... Mrs. Hudson is out and all today and I thought you'd be more... vocal," it's not something you hear everyday, nor it was a common day-to-day question during an intimate moment like this but it was their first time and they were in a way  _raw_ to this so such questions left awkward heaviness in the air. John gave him a warm, apologetic smile before kissing the side of his lips before finally speaking up.

   "I'm fine, Sherlock. It's just... I've never done this before and I'm sure you know that straight from deducing me alone," their lips were only a breath away and he can feel the hot breath from between the bowed lips on his when he returned to pleasuring John with his skillful violinist hand, whispering reassurance to take care of him.  Moving his hand faster and tighter around John's shaft, he managed to hear John's breath caught in his throat a few times followed by harmonious moans. His cheeks and his nape were flushed with pink accompanied by his half-lidded eyes showing how much in ecstasy he was and that made Sherlock felt proud and powerful of how his dominant side managed to elict such behavior from this strong man and made him aching for friction on his aching cock.

   "Oh you like this don't you?" he groaned while he slows down his hand but adding some twisting movements to it.

   "Y-yes Sherlock. I like it. Fuck I like this. You're-" before he managed to compliment Sherlock on how he was good at this, he arched and released a choked moan when Sherlock pressed their body flushed together and begins to grind on him while his free hand snaked towards his hair and tugged on the short hair he could fit in his fist.

   "Th-then you'll love every bit of today," he said in between pants, enjoying every moan that he manage to form from John's mouth.

   "Oh Sh-Sherlock, don't fucking stop. Please,"

   "Not planning to," before John tried to mutter incoherently, he shut John up with a deep kiss, giving John the dominance of exploring his mouth with his tongue while Sherlock was enjoying his dominance over John's body, worshipping the beauty that's writhing for more contact under him. All the friction made their cock throbbing and leaking with precum evidently seen pooling a little on John's abdomen and yet it wasn't enough. John wrapped both their cocks with his hand and began fisting in a fast motion, causing Sherlock to let out a sharp cry before forming a string of moans at this sudden decision for John to take charge of situation. 

   "What do you want? Say it, Sherlock," he asked while his hand was still efficiently pleasing both of them. Sherlock grabs his face for a sloppy kiss before forming an answer, impatient to go further.

   "Ha- I want-  _you_. Right here right now, I want to taste you, I want to fuck you," Sherlock was breathing heavily by now, lust slowly taking over his mind completely. Upon seeing Sherlock like this and wanting to take John right then, the hairs on his neck stands on its end.  _Fuck, this is fucking hot_ , especially hearing Sherlock swear during this session which was undeniably sexy as hell. Everything was perfect. John being in complete awe was unable to respond in the few seconds between them so Sherlock proposed the idea in a different paraphrase, that shows his eligible dominant side.

   "I want you to surrender to me, John," the deep velvety voice requested once more.

   "Yes. Fuck yes, I will. I want you to take me," all pride and dignity aside, he just wants to feel dominated by Sherlock-fucking-Holmes and feel him inside and be fucked into the cushion of the sofa. Sherlock insisted they retreated to the bedroom, with more space and privacy before pushing him on his back to the bed.

   "Look at you, such a masterpiece. And now you're mine," Sherlock commented before climbing on top of him like a predator that found itself a prey, teasingly runs his hand up and down John's body but avoiding the sensitive area.

   "I'm really not. Look who's talking," he breathlessly chuckled. Having the gorgeous Sherlock Holmes saying that he's a masterpiece seemed out of context. Denying the truth doesn't cause him any harm so he put the fact straight.

   "My eyes are the most accurate pair you can find, and I meant it when I say you're beautiful," he formed a little, genuine smile before kissing him passionately and continued by trailing the kiss downwards, leaving John in anticipation all the way. When he's down to his desired target, he glanced up at John as if to ask for permission, in which John nodded and urging him to go on. Licking the tip ever so slightly, John shivered when he felt his hot breath on his dick and the velvety tongue that slowly covered his throbbing hardness. It takes every strength in him to  _not_ buck his hips and fuck Sherlock's mouth when he started to take John in his mouth, bobbing in an even rhythm. Every now and then he takes John all in and the vibrations he felt at the back of Sherlock's throat was so stimulating, he couldn't help arching his back and accidentally thrust in his mouth in which Sherlock had to forcefully hold his hips down to the mattress once he choked a bit on the sudden movement. Once he's gotten better control of the situation, Sherlock began to tease his balls with his free hand and his perinulum with his tongue every time he takes it all in.

   "Oh fuck, Sherlock. You're doing so good," he moaned and clenched Sherlock's hair tight in his grip. When he felt Sherlock removing him from his mouth, he could hear a faint chuckle from him while he himself let out a tiny whimper at the loss of contact.

   "Any of those pesky women you dated been this good? This... delightful?" he flicked his tongue on the tip before citing the last word and smirked when he hear the ragged breath from John.

   "N-no," he gulped when he realized he could barely form a proper sentence from what Sherlock administered to him.

   "Then you're going to love what comes next," he stood up to grab some lube and condom from the nightstand before climbing back up to the bed.

   "I know it's your first, with a man I mean, and I'm honored that you're okay with me being the first one," he said while he squeezed a dollop of lube on his fingers.

   "I'm okay, because I want  _you_ to be the first, of all people," he pulled Sherlock in for a long kiss and moaned in his mouth when he felt Sherlock teasing his entrance with his lubed up fingers. When he felt his finger breach the ring of muscles, John's breath hitched and Sherlock put one hand on his cheek, caressing it and asked him to keep eye contact, relaxing himself. All the while Sherlock moved his fingers, he tenderly kissed John to make sure he's relaxed enough for him to add another finger or two, efficiently opening him up. 

   "John, you're so tight and so warm," he grunted before curling his fingers to softly press his prostate, whispering love and reassurance to his ear when John was moaning loudly, desperate to feel Sherlock inside him, especially when he began to add his third finger.

   "You make the best noises, I like it,"

   "Like it, huh?"

   "I adore it," he smirked and gasped when John took his penis and began to massage it firmly and in a moderate pace, before increasing the pace of his finger going in and out of him. In a matter of minutes, the room was echoed with the sounds of their moans and pants, and filled with the scent of sweat, musk and sex. John let out a long breath when he felt empty inside and glanced over to realize Sherlock was lubing his own hardness with a mix of lube and his own precum.

   "Tell me if it hurts, John. Don't need no injured soldier here," advised Sherlock when he positioned himself at the entrance.

   "Yes, okay," he answered and locked his eyes with Sherlock's. He nodded to allow Sherlock to continue, which he did-slowly. John let out a long moan when Sherlock is pushing all the way in. He looked at John to make sure he was still alright and John upon seeing this, nodded to telling him to go on.

   "You're so tight, so right for me," he grunts while moving his hips slowly, still letting John be accustomed to his length inside of him. A few groans were released from John's mouth as he forcefully pull Sherlock in for a lustful, deep kiss and giving love promises in the midst of moans and intelligible cries. His hands were pinned down to the sides of his head by Sherlock's strong grasp that doesn't budge even one iota.

   "Shit Sherlock, just go faster- I just want you, all of you," and so he did what he asked. He increased his pace and began licking the sides of John's neck, making a few bruises while at it, relishing himself with the vibrations from John's throat when he made all those wonderful sounds, and he was thirsty for more. He raised one of John's leg and rest it on his shoulder before he started to push himself deeper and harder into John while moving his hips to find a better angle. At one point, John suddenly bucked hard and arched his back and he saw white in full pleasure.

   "Ack- Yes! Fuck, there- Shitt-" he cried and repetitively pants hard when Sherlock complied to keep the angle that would be dynamic, hitting his prostate adequately with every hard thrust. John was moaning so loud, the neighbors might have heard him being fucked into ecstacy. Both of them could feel the pressure at the base of their spine and cocks and Sherlock increased his pace, driving himself in John rather aggressively.

   "Come on, Sherlock. Make me shout," he said while moving his hand over his perspiration on his temple. Sherlock held John's waist as both of their hips meet repeatedly hard and every hit had sent them to a string of broken moans and breathless mumbles until John trembles under him.

   "Sh-Sherlock I think I'm- ah- coming," John grabbed Sherlock's head and hid his own on the crook of Sherlock's neck, breathing onto the sweaty, pale skin with hints of pink.  With every movement, his cock which was between their body got enough friction to send him to cloud nine, and Sherlock made sure John's throbbing erection was rubbed in every thrust he made inside of him. Everything was overwhelming but almost not enough for John. Once he was at his peak, he climaxed onto both their stomach and shouts Sherlock's name incoherently. Sherlock could feel John tightening around him and that had sent him to the edge as well and comes deep in his John, still rolling his hips so that John's oversensitised nerves milked him completely, until he felt the wetness of his own come pooling at the tip of his cock before pulling out.

   "That was... incredible. Not that I expect less of you," John grins once he regained his breath fully. They laid side by side, looking into each other's eyes and amazed of how  _that_ actually happened. Neither of them would have thought it was anywhere near possible but here they were, post-orgasm fatigue on the bed.

   "I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did," he said, resting one hand on John's cheek before kissing him sweetly. "I-I never thought all if this was possible in any way," gesturing randomly when he said it. John was smiling at him tiredly the whole time, but a genuine one, while cleaning up his mess with a tissue from the night stand.

   "The same thought in my mind before, but... we can make it a reality now," he looked into Sherlock's eyes lovingly, admiring the Crab Nebula pattern in the sharp gaze.

   "If... That is.. Only if Mary consent to what we dreamt of," smiling sadly, he grabbed John's hand and intertwining it.

   "She will. She knew me and her wasn't meant to be. Troubles happen to often between us,"

   "I just don't want to lose you anymore, because- because it hurts," he said softly and brings John's hand up to his lips.

   "It's going to be alright. You said it yourself, and you're hardly ever wrong," John caressed Sherlock's soft curls and pulls him in for a hug, making soothing circles on his back.

   "I didn't know that it was logical to love someone this much. It's kind of scary," he chuckled before continuing. "But if it's meant to be with you, I'd face that fear,"

   "You'll get used to it, don't worry. I know you will. Though I might not get used to being unable to walk after sex,"

   "Heh. Then, I'll gladly carry you around. Like a princess or a damsel in distress," both of them broke into laughter at this statement. It's always a good moment between them. The warmth and tenderness that only exist between them was something he wouldn't miss out on, and so he vowed to make sure they would work out into a healthy, functioning relationship.

   "Maybe... like a married couple," John winked at Sherlock. His face was getting so red, because who would've thought that Sherlock himself could have someone that would marry him, let alone the man of his dreams? "Y-you'd bear with me for the rest of your life?" he subconsciously had one of his hand on his mouth, being embarrassed.

   "You're cute when you blush," he giggled. "And yes of course I'll bear with you, you intelligent git. I've dealt with you for years before so I know what I'm dealing with and I still want it. Still want  _you_ ," Sherlock could only cover his whole face with his hand in all bashfulness.

   "John stop it you're making me so red!" And he was self conscious about it too, because not everyday the great Sherlock Holmes would deduce the heat rising up to his face was out of embarrassment and not in anger or frustration. More laughs filled the air when John made Sherlock blush more and Sherlock was continuously pouting and playfully sulking at him and hiding his face in the crook of John's neck.

   "Dear lord, what did I do to deserve you?"

   "By being yourself. Being  _my_ Sherlock Holmes that I adore so much,"

   "Thank you, John. For loving me for who I am," he kissed John's forehead softly and full of gentle love. "And for making me realize that life was worth living," John was smiling at this, moreover when he saw that Sherlock's eyes was glassy.

   "I love you, that's why,"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end of the fic ;) but I can't promise you when I'll be able to update. But not too long, hopefully. I'm stuck in preparing for a family holiday/getaway and I'll be back to uni afterwards :')

**Author's Note:**

> Just a heads up and a friendly warning that the next chapter will be smut :)


End file.
